


The Cartoon Laws of Karmic Comedy

by InksandPens



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: context is important, in letter not in spirit, mentions of slapstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InksandPens/pseuds/InksandPens
Summary: Henry is forced to confront the fact that a cartoon’s understanding of crime and punishment is very different from real life.





	The Cartoon Laws of Karmic Comedy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Breaking The Spell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10673715) by [WhatIsThisNonsense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatIsThisNonsense/pseuds/WhatIsThisNonsense). 



> Presenting: the brainchild of musings over the Good Bend(y) AU by Whatisthisnonsense and Squigglydigg. Go check them out; you won't regret it!  
> This shouldn’t have too many spoilers, since it’s based on early theories that were mostly debunked with the release of the game’s 2nd chapter. Yeah, it’s not really the type of story you’d expect from a horror game; I pretty much ignored the “demon” aspect of Bendy’s nature and just picked up and ran with the “cartoon” part. Anyway, this is just a little scenario I cooked up for Henry’s first night post-game.

* * *

 

* _smash_ *

“Okay, that’s it,” Henry muttered. Tossing his glasses and book onto the end table, he heaved himself out of the recliner and strode over to the now ruined planter, snatching the toon up by the waist and easily tucking him under one arm. “We’re figuring out the bed situation now, and then you’re going down until morning. That means no loud noises, no throwing things, and _no breaking anything_. Got it?”

The toon gave a brief, cursory struggle before going limp. Momentarily satisfied, Henry glanced around his dimly lit home, wondering where he felt willing to let Bendy sleep. He supposed his niece wouldn’t mind lending her room if it was for a good cause. He’d just have to have visits at her house instead.

* _biff_ *

 _Ow_ , Henry’s mind supplied reflexively as he glanced down at his knee. It hadn’t really hurt, but an inky blot was already getting acquainted with his khakis where the demon had just kicked him. The disgruntled animator shifted to face the little hellion himself, who met his eyes with a challenging grin. A grin that wavered slightly as he continued to hold Henry’s glare. “ _Don’t_ do that again. I’ve had enough ink on my trousers to last me the rest of my life. And so help me, if there are drips on this carpet you’re cleaning it.”

In response to this warning, Bendy seemed to come to a decision. Sadly, that decision was to blow a raspberry. Huffing, Henry adjusted his hold on the toon and marched to his niece’s room, setting him firmly on the bed. With a pointed “goodnight,” he shut the door.

Settling back into his recliner, Henry donned his glasses and reopened his book but didn’t start reading again. The fact of the matter was, he didn’t favor the idea of leaving Bendy unsupervised for any lengthy amount of time. By that same token, he really didn’t want to share a room with the demon, though. The old animator understood that the toon had just been a pawn in the messy game they had recently gotten out of, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to trust the little devil, given his capabilities. When he had his wits about him, the toon was startlingly clever despite his childish mannerisms, and this combination mixed with a skewed sense of morality led to a mischievous disposition that Henry was getting reacquainted with in a way he’d never seen.

On the other hand, when the toon hadn’t _any_ presence of mind, he became a nameless force of instinct and blind rage, which was dreadful in a very different respect. Though at the rate things were going, Henry thought sardonically, he might actually prefer Bendy in that frame of mind. At least parameters for how one should act around him were more clear-cut in those cases. All one had to do was run away.

 

* * *

 

The animator barely suppressed a groan as he heard a door creak open, followed by shuffling footsteps. Speak of the devil, and he shall very nearly make one tear their hair out. What mischief could the rubberhose hellspawn possibly be concocting now?

Frustrated as he was with the demon’s antics, Henry was also too weary to do something about it right this second. He’d wait until he heard something break. Then he’d…

…just put Bendy back in the bedroom? If that was all the preventive action he took, the little devil would just sneak out again.

‘Sneak’ being a subjective term; the animator knew from experience that Bendy could move more quietly than he was right now.

Should he lock the toon in the room for the night? The option seemed cruel, and if Bendy decided to make his imminent displeasure known it might result in his niece’s room being trashed come morning. But, Henry told himself, if he wanted the rest of the house standing he was willing to sacrifice one room. Would Bendy even recognize that he was, essentially, being grounded? Henry wondered, glancing in the direction he had last heard the demon’s footsteps. What disciplinary measures would register with a toon?

Henry did a double-take. Bendy hadn’t wandered off at all, it seemed. The little toon was standing in the doorway, shoulders shrugged sheepishly, one booted toe twisting in the carpet. How long had he been there?

“You have something to say?”

“I just wanted-“

Bendy cut himself off, before continuing hastily. “I j-just wanted to make sure you…remembered what to do.”

“Remembered?” Remembered to do what? This wasn’t exactly a situation Henry had ever been in before.

“Y-yeah. I didn’t want to say anything ‘cause that’s not how it works but…you kinda missed all your cues. An’ we can’t start a new act without resolvin’ the conflict o’ this one, yanno?”

“I suppose.” Was the toon trying to apologize? It was the weirdest attempt at an apology Henry had ever heard. What was this about cues?

Bendy blinked, then wilted. “Ah geez, ya really did forget. You don’t even know what you’re gonna do, do ya?”

“No,” the animator admitted earnestly. “No, I have no idea.”

The toon winced. “Well I dunno either; it’s not my job to tell ya how to do this. It’s kinda supposed to be a surprise, see? Eh…” his eyes darted around the room. “You got an anvil? No, no anvil. You could whip up some dynamite? Got any cream pie in yer icebox? I’m not gonna go stickin’ my fingers in electric sockets just ‘cause you say to, but if you’ve got a cattle prod layin’ around that’d still be pretty shocking. You got a belt? I mean, I see you have a belt, but maybe a different one? I guess you could just put a mousetrap outside the door. You’ve got a good swing, you could try a rubber mallet. You could slip something spicy in my drink. Wait, can I drink? I guess we don’t need to know for you to try it. Oh, oh, you could-” a pause, then “you could heat up that poker and chase me around with it. Ain’t no pitchfork but it’d still be ironic.”

Henry stared.

 

* * *

 

Bendy waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, the toon heaved a breath and glanced in the direction he had come and continued speaking.

“So…when you’re ready I’ll be in the bed, _not_ anticipatin’ any o’ that…s-so it can still be a surprise.” The toon hesitated briefly, as if in confirmation, before darting away. A moment later, the door creaked shut.

Henry decided he really hadn’t wanted his question answered _that_ badly.

How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

Of course. He should’ve known. The only type of retribution Bendy would be familiar with would be of the slapstick variety.

The old animator rubbed his eyes, weary for a very different reason now. As an animated character, Bendy had been able to withstand a lot, but had that changed with his inky resurrection? Henry honestly hoped he’d never find out; he wouldn’t dream of letting that behavior fly here. But how could he communicate that to the toon?

Whether he knew how or not, he had better try sooner rather than later. Pushing himself out of the recliner once again, the animator plodded to the door of his niece’s room, pushing it open. As soon as it creaked, the current occupant began snoring loudly. Sighing, Henry stepped inside, leaving the door open. “I know you’re still awake.”

The child-shaped lump under the covers froze, before curling up into a ball.

Oh hell, this misguided _kid_ expected him to-

“ _Bendy…_ ”

Two familiar black eyes peeped reluctantly from under the covers as the toon sat up. “Y-yeah, boss?”

Still lost for words, Henry fended off a pained grimace as he sat on the bed next to Bendy and began rubbing slow, methodical circles into the toon’s back. Bit by bit, the tension racing through his small frame dissipated, replaced by confusion.

“I-I don’t…get it. What’s happening?”

“What’s happening,” Henry tried, “is that we’re starting a new act without…you…getting your stuffing knocked out.” Yeah. “Consider our conflict resolved.”

Bendy’s head swiveled to face the animator’s with improbable haste. “Wha-but…but how is that fair to you?! You deserve ta reciprocate! An’ I d-deserve retributin’! I really do, remember what happened back there? I can’t be just…let off!”

The animator braced himself. “That’s something that makes real life different from cartoons; sometimes it isn’t fair and nobody gets what they deserve.”

“…huh,” Bendy mused after a moment of discomfited silence.

“But if it eases your conscience,” Henry continued, “I really don’t _want_ to…retribute you.”

“Conscience. That’s what makes me feel bad even though I’m not gettin’ hurt, right? ‘Cause, okay, I love the idea of not havin’ ta pay, but still, you really should…have someone at least…hug you or somethin’.” The toon trailed off into mumbles.

The toon looked like he needed a hug himself. Maybe…

“Well if that’s what you think I need, why don’t you give me one?”

“M-me!? But I’m one who…me?!”

“You’re the only one here to do it right now.”

Bendy seemed to size Henry up, before standing up on the mattress and looping his arms around the animator, face pressed against the man’s ribs in order to lend more circumference to the loop. Hoping both that this endeavor would succeed and that he wasn’t welcoming death, Henry embraced the toon in reciprocation, one arm over Bendy’s shoulder, the other under his opposite arm.

A few awkward moments passed, and Bendy shifted his grip to something more comfortable long-term. “Henry?”

“Mm?”

“D-did you…just trick me into getting hugged by you?”

“Well darn it all, I was hoping you wouldn’t catch on.”

“That’s kinda sneaky.”

“Well, you weren’t anticipating it, were you?”

“…no. No, I wasn’t.”


End file.
